Just A Perfect Blendship

IT'S FRIENDSHIP, FRIENDSHIP — DUDO HUGGING MOOSE.
(CLICK ANY IMAGE TO FEEL THE LOVE.)

I had a challenging day Saturday. No reason. I was just "off." After coffee, I came home and went back to bed for two hours. San Geraldo — my best friend and one and only — joined me for a cuddle and a nap. That helped.

COVERING EACH OTHER'S BEHINDS.

I played with Dudo and Moose and enjoyed one of San Geraldo's delicious salads for lunch (and his delicious company). I puttered on the terrace — trimmed and tied the jasmine (which has survived hungry caterpillars and the cyclonic winds of winter), and shuffled plants around.

ONE JASMINE...

MORE JASMINE.

I washed windows so I could once again admire the view of the Mediterranean Sea without saying to myself, "The windows need washing." (Being so exposed to the sea, sand, and winds, they need washing once a week — at least.) Then I sat at the computer. Mostly with Dudo on my lap.

A ROOM WITH A [CLEAR] VIEW.

COPY CATS, DUDO (LEFT) AND MOOSE.
(WITH SAN GERALDO'S MOTHER, ALICE, WATCHING OVER EVERYONE.)

At one point, I was hungry, thirsty, and I needed to "use the office" (click here if you don't know what I mean). But I didn't want to disturb Dudo, so I waited an hour until he got off my lap for a big stretch. I did what I needed to do, sat back down, and Dudo returned to my lap.

BEFORE THE STRETCH...

... AND AFTER.

We went to Meson Salvador (where they treat us like family) for dinner with Tom and Linda (family that are friends). And Tynan and Elena (friends who have become family) met us for drinks afterward. Today was a better day. Good friends can make all the difference. Just ask Moose and Dudo.

If I ever lose my mind (again), I know they'll be kind...
And now it's time to face the music.

The Incredible Shrinking Man

If you're from here in Spain, you would say San Geraldo has lost 20 kilos. If you're from the UK, that's 3.1 stone — or 3 stone, 2 pounds. And if you're from the USA, he's lost 44 pounds. It's a lot of weight and he's still losing. (And he won't strike a pose for the blog.) He's got a closet full of clothes that are too big. I've given him some of my shirts and sweaters (that were a little too baggy on me and look better on him anyway). Otherwise, his old shirts look like muumuus. And he and I could probably fit — together — in a pair of his jeans (which is an idea).

Everyone has been telling San Geraldo he needs to get some new clothes (especially jeans). But he hates to shop. On Tuesday after morning coffee, Linda, Tom, (sister and brother-in-law) and I nearly got him to the department store, El Corte Inglés. There's one just a few blocks from our house. But we three turned the corner and San Geraldo, being no longer "in the mood," did not.

Elena said she was coming over at 10:00 Friday morning to drag His Highness out to shop. He had Spanish class, so wormed his way out of that, too. However, he earned major points Thursday afternoon.

BEFORE AND AFTER... SO FAR.  (CLICK TO ADD WEIGHT.)

We were running errands and passed the main El Corte Inglés. I suggested we stop and, to my shock, San Geraldo agreed. He tried on five pairs of store-brand jeans. None fit correctly. It wasn't fun. For either of us. I entered the store with Felíz (Happy) and I left the store with Gruñon (Grumpy). A name brand would work, but Levi's are about 100€ here. We can get three pairs for that money when we next visit The Dowager Duchess. He's got some Scottish blood running through his veins. Maybe I'll buy him a kilt. Or, as our grand-niece Eloise would say, "Ummmmm, maybe not."

SAN GERALDO'S GRANDPARENTS (28-GREATS).
"YES, DEAR, YOU DO HAVE NICE LEGS. BUT IT'S TIME TO BUY SOME BIG BOY PANTS."

Aw, Quit Your Griping

All this whining about snow. Here on the Costa del Sol, we've had our share. You don't hear me complaining. (Click any image to get a big dose of reality.)

YET ANOTHER DUSTING THIS WEEK.

I EVEN SAW A SNOW PLOW...  WELL, IT'S A PLOW.
(ABOUT TO SCOOP UP A COUPLE OF SUN-BATHERS.)

IS THAT AN ICEBERG IN THE DISTANCE?

YOU CAN'T SEE THE SNOW FROM THE LIVING ROOM,
BUT IT'S DOWN THERE.  DUDO, CLOSE THE DOOR!

Dudo Gives Me The Bird

"Miiiitchellllll!"

"What?!?"

"I need your help!!!"

"What happened?"

"Dudo caught a bird on the terrace! He's on my rug! I can't get it out of his mouth."

What the hell could San Geraldo be thinking?!? He wants me to do something about a cat with a bird in his mouth? My mother is the frickin' Dowager Duchess! (Sorry, Mom, but that's how it ran through my head.)

I grab an old hand towel from the laundry room and head to San Geraldo's bedroom. Dudo runs out between my legs — bird in mouth. I try to grab him and he growls at me before running under the dining room table. He actually growls at me!

Dudo then runs back into San Geraldo's room. I follow. He jumps up on the bed, where he crouches facing me — bird still in mouth.

I tap on the bed directly in front of him and command, "Dudo, drop the bird!"

He does. I wasn't expecting that!

The bird is very clearly dead. I quickly grab it up in the towel. San Geraldo is ready with a plastic bag. I shove both towel and bird in bag. Then I go all over the house with spray cleaner and paper towels and pick up bird feathers. Dudo follows along faithfully — at first, licking his chops!. He's beside himself with joy. I have a hard time looking at him for the rest of the night.

I thought Dudo would be angry with me, but he's even more attentive now. Maybe he sees me as his accomplice. Maybe he thinks he caught the bird and I ate it.

He woke me this morning at 7:00 to play with him. He brought strings (formerly mice) onto the bed and we played for a half hour. I usually don't give into him like that, but now that I know he's a cold-blooded killer, I'm thinking it might be better to do what he says. Also, I figure as long as we play with fake prey, he won't be out catching the real thing. But maybe I'm just helping him perfect his murderous skills.

"PLAY WITH ME AND NO ONE ELSE GETS HURT."

(Truth be told, Dudo is right now sound asleep on my lap. I know he was only doing what comes naturally. I suppose I should be honored. After all, he did finally share his catch with me. Maybe he just knew sparrow wouldn't be on San Geraldo's diet.)

Shimmy Shimmy Ko-Ko-Bop

That yellow alert I told you about yesterday didn't amount to much. We didn't even have the usual big gusts. Just a lot of shaking and shimmying. We bumped into Elena and Tynan this morning and Elena said, "See? What did I tell you? Yellow alert! For what?"

YOU KNOW THE DRILL: CLICK THE PICTURES AND THEY GET BIG.

DUDO SLEEPING (SMILINGLY) THROUGH THE YELLOW ALERT.

MOOSE. POUTING BECAUSE HE COULDN'T GO OUTSIDE.

This morning, San Geraldo went out to water the plants on the terrace and called to me to take a look at the corner yucca. It was in fact still standing. However, all that shaking from the wind had caused the hose around the pot to shimmy down to the ground. A day of big gusty winds and it would have gone over yet again.

SAGGING HOSE.
(DON'T YOU JUST HATE WHEN THAT HAPPENS?)

Despite the lingering winter winds, spring has sprung in Fuengirola. Most of the beach umbrellas and chaise lounges were tucked away for our brief winter, but they're already popping back up. I took these pictures Sunday while on a long walk with Linda and Tom (Jerry's sister and her husband). Over the next few months, we'll watch the umbrella forests spread. Right now, it just looks like the bare trees are branching and leafing out.

THIS GUY REMINDED ME OF "PAINTING THE ROSES RED"
FROM "ALICE IN WONDERLAND."

"WHO DARES TO TAINT WITH VULGAR PAINT
THE ROYAL FLOWER BED?"

I GUESS HE PLANTED WHITE UMBRELLAS BY MISTAKE.

MONDAY MORNING FOLLOW-UP:
ROLLED THATCH WAITING TO BE WIRED INTO PLACE.

ON ANOTHER STRETCH OF BEACH:
HOW (AND WHERE) TO DRILL FOR WATER?

And, of course, the music...

OR AS SAN GERALDO SINGS: "SHIMMY SHIMMY COCOA PUFFS."

Cloudy Language And Yellow Alert

Slushee muttered something under her breath this morning while we had breakfast at Cafe Manila. It was said as she quickly passed our table. I didn't hear her but San Geraldo's response was, "Oooooh!"

When I asked, he whispered, "Slushee used cloudy language."

He pondered a moment and then said, "Wait. That doesn't sound right."

"Did you mean colorful language?" I asked.

Slushee passed by again and said, "Yes. Blue."

Red and Yellow
While we're on the subject of colors, there's been talk lately — to our dismay — of red alerts and yellow alerts here on the Costa del Sol. The alerts are to warn of strong winds.

The reason for San Geraldo's dismay? He has a catastrophic imagination.

The reason for my dismay? I have to live with San Geraldo.

A NUMBER OF PEOPLE HAVE BEEN ENJOYING THE WINDS.
(CLICK THE IMAGES FOR THE BIG PICTURE.)

Last week was filled with sunshine and beach days. The winds came and went, but they were not powerful enough to impress Linda and Tom. The last couple of days have been different. After more than 48 hours of strong winds, the sky is finally calm (at least for now).

Saturday night, Elena just happened to mention a red alert that occurred more than a year ago. It amounted to nothing, she told us. Schools were closed and the kids came home and swam in the pool all afternoon. Elena is from the north coast of Spain where the surf can be monstrous. She finds high surf warnings here on the calm Mediterranean to be comical. High surf here is a lazy day at the beach in Bilbao. And that was the point of her story.

But San Geraldo missed the point. The entire time Elena spoke, San Geraldo kept jumping in and demanding, "Red alert?!?  We have alerts?!?"

I calmed him down... after finally telling Elena to just stop talking. She summarized by saying, "But, Jerry, that was more than a year ago."

Well, this morning, Slushee just happened to mention that there was a yellow alert today. San Geraldo snapped, "Yellow alert?!? I thought we never get alerts! What does a yellow alert mean?!?" [Note: It means high winds of up to 80 kms/hr (49 mph).]

Not knowing about Saturday's conversation, Slushee said, "Oh, we get alerts all the time. We've had six in the past month."

"What?!?  Six?!?"

"Slushee, would you please stop!" I laughed. She laughed and headed behind the bar.

Meanwhile, all our yuccas are still standing. I can't say the same for San Geraldo. (Honestly, he's fine, too. Just a bit dramatic.)

Oh Susanna

I went for a walk along the beach today with Linda and Tom. We stopped by to visit with my favorite sand sculptor, Paul Blane. After a bout of the flu (La Gripa here in Spain), Paul is hard at work repairing what he began and continuing to rebuild his "Taberna de Piratas" ("Pirates Tavern"). It will continue to change and evolve, but I thought I'd show you just a bit. Last year's variations were a marvel. Click either image for a closer look at what's developing this year.

PAUL BLANE AND SOME GUY WITH A BANJO ON HIS KNEE.
(PAUL IS NOT FROM ALABAMA... UNLESS ALABAMA IS IN SCOTLAND.)

IF THAT'S SUSANNA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S SHEDDING ANY TEARS FOR THE BANJO PLAYER.

Sung by a couple of guys who clearly don't know our Susanna...



Linda and Tom brought us Godiva chocolate. I thought there were two dark chocolate bars for San Geraldo and two milk chocolate bars for me. Before snapping the below photo, I opened the supposed four-pack to arrange them. When I downloaded the photo, I noticed it was only a three-pack. I just glanced over to my bookcase and it turns out there's only one dark chocolate bar. There must be something wrong with my camera.

IT'S A MYSTERY.

It's A Bust

I'm boring myself just a little right now. I suppose that's better than boring you.  But, until I feel like telling stories again, I've decided to share some more of the art created by Fuengirola's sculptor of historical figures.

Some of my favorites:

SHE NEEDS TO PRACTICE THAT MONA LISA SMILE.

GOD OF MUSIC, PROPHECY, AND HEALING. (AND GREAT HAIR.)

IN KEEPING WITH THE ROMAN THEME, THIS REALLY SHOULD BE POSEIDON.

Helen of Troy was the daughter of Zeus (and Leda). Leda's likeness has not been cast in sand, but father and daughter have. See if you can notice the family resemblance.

 REVELATION: ZEUS HAD BIGGER BREASTS THAN HIS DAUGHTER.

The Simple Bottle Opener

A very popular item in the trinket shops along the beach here in Los Boliches is the bottle opener. Beach vacations. Ice cold beer.  Bottle openers are in demand.

HAND-CARVED.

There are a variety of bottle opener types. I didn't get close enough to the tacky displays for careful inspection, but I saw what I needed to see to make a proper identification via Wikipedia. For example, I've learned that there's the crown cork opener, the speed opener, the wall-mounted, the magnetic, the catch bottle opener, and the multi-opener.

HAND-PAINTED.

One particular store here has a selection on display that would be classified as "simple openers" (although the descriptor "novelty" might have to be added).

Wikipedia describes the simple opener as "just a piece of metal with a rectangular or rounded opening in one end and a solid handle large enough to be gripped between the thumb and forefingers on the other [end]."

San Geraldo and I pass this store and its simple bottle openers every day. We never stop. Linda and Tom (Jerry's sister and her husband) arrived Monday. They'll be our neighbors for a month and we couldn't be happier. But, leave it to Linda on her first day in town to stop and closely inspect the simple openers and their "solid handles large enough to be gripped between the thumb and forefingers..."

HAND-WORKED?

LINDA HANDLING THE MERCHANDISE.

This reminds me of a bumper sticker I saw in Santa Barbara, California, which read:

"I have a very large penis.

I just don't have it with me."

I'm Spartacus

There's always a gladiator or three to be admired on the beaches of Fuengirola. But, like the sandy haired Spartakus pictured below, some local gladiators have seen better days.

AS TONY CURTIS SAID, "I'M SPAWHTACUSS."

COULD THIS REALLY BE THE FACE THAT LAUNCHED A THOUSAND SHIPS?
(SHE LOOKS AN AWFUL LOT LIKE SPARTAKUS.)

Always Just Before The Dawn

Moose woke me up at 7:15 to open the window. Apparently, he wanted to watch the sunrise. But at least now I understand: It really is always darkest just before the dawn. I then went back to bed for another two hours.

Click any of the below 17 images for a closer look. And count your blessings: Before going back to bed, I took 65 photos. Don't miss the music at the end... even though it's a long time coming.

I WAS ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE LIVING IN 1969 WHO DID NOT GET TO WOODSTOCK.